Schism
by Solain Rhyo
Summary: When a transport is suddenly infested with aliens, a woman learns to survive the hard way when she finds herself among those who have come to Hunt.
1. 001

**-Foreword-**

This is not what some would call a good story. It has no ultimate, all encompassing struggle between good and evil, nor are there underlying moral values to be gleaned from its telling. There aren't really any surprising twists in it, either—this story runs a singular course, start to finish, with a little … _deviation_, if it can be called such, on the side. Perhaps I should also warn you that I am not a good heroine. My purpose in this tale was to survive, and only to survive. I'm not well-mannered and soft-spoken; neither am I overly courageous and valiant. I think you'll find that as far as heroines go, I am a rather boring, self-serving one.

Now that you've been warned, you're perhaps wondering why you should bother reading this. Honestly, I can't really give you a valid reason as to why you should. The story that follows this introduction, if you will, is simply my adventure as I lived it. You will have read others a lot like it, I think, and I'm not claiming that what is to come is wholly original and amazing in its insight. It's just a story—_my_ story—about running, about fighting, about killing, about hating …

And yeah, there's a bit of that other stuff in there. You know, all that inexplicable, baffling drama that sets some hearts aflutter and gets the blood racing. Romance? Hardly. Or rather, yes—it's the harshest, most basic side of romance. It's attraction, pure and simple. Here's another warning—if you're picturing something sweet and dreamy with a handsome young man, you may want to ditch reading this now. Because what I'm talking about isn't like anything I'm sure most people write about. Using the word "relationship" is kind of stretching the actual situation—hell, the other involved isn't even human. I guess you could say there's a bit of a "beauty and the beast" vibe to this, even though I'm no beauty, even if the other is a beast (actually, "monster" is closer to the truth, I think). Don't get me wrong, though, this will deviate from most of those kind of stories—you know, where girl meets the monster, monster falls for girl, girl repels monster, something dramatic (and most likely traumatic) happens, girl realizes the error of her ways and falls for monster, monster becomes something less repulsive than a monster, and they live happily ever after. Oh, no, this is nothing like that.

Because you see, in this story the monster gets the girl, stays a monster, and as for the ending …

Well, I'm still waiting for closure.

**.1.**

I could give you the long, drawn out background that would reveal in great detail why I was onboard the _Monolith_ when everything went to hell, but I won't. Suffice to say, life on Derrica 12 hadn't gone quite as I'd thought it would, and after the death of my lover in a mining accident I'd decided to uproot and pursue happiness elsewhere. Money wasn't really an issue for me; the Company compensated those bereaved by the death of its employees, and I had enough in the wake of the tragedy to live comfortably for quite some time. Money isn't everything, or so I'd heard somewhere, and it wasn't enough to make me want to stay on a planet full of fledgling colonies. And so I left as soon as I could, grieving in my own way, thinking perhaps I'd find in the stars something to fill the awful aching void inside me at the loss of the man I'd lived with for so long. I purchased passage on board one of the newest, state of the art transport cruisers; it was widely reputed to be unlike any other ship ever made. When it first was made, the old Earth vessel the _Titanic_ was hailed as the dawning of a new age in terms of sea travel, and with the _Monolith_ it was much the same. Maybe it was the grandeur that drew me, or the fact that I'd be with so many other humans. Whatever the reason, I paid the exorbitant fee without hesitation.

That was my first mistake.

I remember standing before the port windows of the small planetary transport as it lifted away from Derrica 12, bearing myself and several others up to the cruiser. I didn't bother watching the planet slip away; there was nothing there any longer that I felt tied to. It was the _Monolith_ that caught and held my attention, an enormous mass of sleek, complex construction that filled the entirety of the small window, its multitude of lights like a starscape in miniature. As we drew nearer, I remember feeling an acute sense of foreboding, having a sense of being dwarfed by the gigantic cruiser. But I tamped those feelings down, and when the transport docked and the loading doors slid open, I pasted a pleasant expression on my face and stepped onto the _Monolith_.

That was my second mistake.

I'll gloss over the unimportant things, like the people I'd met and the room I was given. The _Monolith_ had a 5000 person capacity, and besides that had a lower hold that could be used for transporting any manner of things. On this particular trip, the lower hold was filled with 100 head of malapedes, a creature that was a vague cross between something equestrian and something saurian. They were worth more than orwocs in terms of livestock, but the cost of raising and keeping them was greater. They were in demand for two reasons—riding and eating. Antiquated methods of travel were becoming popular again in certain circles, and the malapedes, much like their horse kin, were ideal for such a hobby. As well, malapede meat was gaining popularity because of how very versatile it was. Malapede ranching was fast becoming a hot investment, hence their presence on the ship—the herd was being relocated to a planet more suitable for large scale ranching. I remembered thinking wryly that I'd paid an obscene amount to ride onboard a luxury cruiser that not only carried some of the galaxy's most well known well-to-do, but common livestock as well. If only I'd known the role that livestock would play, I would have jettisoned myself offboard in one of the escape shuttles. But I digress.

The _Monolith_ had a never ending supply of entertainment. My passage to Yana Opar, one of the more central planets in the system that boasted more cities than any other I knew of, would take twelve days. I had family there, a brother I hadn't seen in months. While the trip would have taken half the time on any other ship, this was a luxury cruiser with a reputation to uphold, and our route was going to be a scenic one, so to speak. I didn't mind. I was able to lose myself in all the _Monolith_ offered—the casino, the libraries, the gymnasiums and the myriad of other things it contained that offered me a diversion from my thoughts, from my grief. Meals could be a casual, formal, or in my case, solitary affair. We passengers literally wanted for nothing. I stuck to myself, for the most part, not really avoiding people but not making an overt effort to interact. I'm not what you'd call a "people person", anyways—I'm sarcastic (to a fault, or so I've been told), I'm not afraid to state my opinions, and I have little patience and no tolerance for idiots. It was easiest and more preferable for me to stick with myself and join the crowds only when necessary.

I made an exception on the third night, when the _Monolith_'s course brought us alongside a large comet for a short period of time for our viewing pleasure. The observation room was packed, as I knew it would be, but I'd never seen a comet up close before and decided to grin and bear it. And so I joined the masses, standing shoulder to shoulder with people I didn't really know, accepting a flute of champagne from a meandering synthetic waiter as I did so. I was content to sip and entertain myself privately through thought; my introspection was interrupted by the man standing next to me.

"I don't think I've seen you around," he told me conversationally; he stood slightly taller than I, with a head of thick red hair that was obviously in need of cutting, falling over his brow and obscuring his dark eyes. He was dressed casual, as was I; many of the wealthier patrons onboard to took pains to ensure they weren't mistaken for the common class. There wasn't a lot of elbow area in the room, but he held himself straight and made the obvious effort not to invade my space. He earned a point for that. I took a sip of my champagne—bubbly and rich and of better vintage than anything I'd ever tasted—before replying, thinking carefully about what I should say. Was he striking up conversation because he was interested, or was he just being polite? I wasn't looking to start anything, not now, when sometimes at night, alone, I still cried over the one I'd lost. Either way, I had to say something.

"I keep to myself." I said honestly. "I don't like crowds."

"Neither do I, but I thought I'd make an exception for this. Have you ever seen one before?"

I shook my head and opened my mouth to say something further when the quiet chatter in the room suddenly rose in volume. I turned with everyone else to peer out the large observation windows to see the comet appear, an enormous mass that wheeled and tumbled through the blackness, leaving a colorful, ethereal trail in its place. People were talking excitedly, pointing and jostling each other to get a better view.

"A lot of fuss for what amounts to a glorified rock," the man at my side said to me, hoisting his own glass, a tumbler full of amber liquid and large chunks of ice. "Cheers."

I smiled and clinked my glass against his, but remained silent. The entire room watched quietly as the comet slowly barreled past us, following its path through the windows. Despite my initial skepticism, it truly was a sight worth seeing. When it was gone from view, the man turned back to me and exclaimed with a heavy amount of mock solemnity, "Truly wondrous!"

"Amazing." I agreed with a grin. All around us, people were milling about, heading for the exits now that the show was over. More than one person stumbled into me, and I suspected that the alcohol had been flowing long before I'd arrived.

"What's your name?" the man asked me, ignoring the hustle and bustle.

"Sheyn." I said. He held out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation I shook it.

"Call me Helix," he said. "And it's nice to meet you."

"Helix?" I said questioningly. He laughed.

"Don't ask. I myself don't know what inspired my parents to name me. But they both worked in genetics, so …"

I smiled again, mentally noting that I'd done so more in the past ten minutes than I had in the last two months. "It's a nice name. Different."

"It is that," he agreed amiably, his eyes roaming over the room. He looked back to me and asked, "Care for a stroll?"

I hesitated. This was what I'd been dreading, but my first reaction wasn't to think of my late lover. I actually found the idea appealing. Ignoring the warning bells that heralded feelings of guilt and self-disgust later on, I slowly nodded. Maybe companionship wouldn't be such a bad thing—god only knew that I'd been moping in isolation enough since the death of my partner, thinking that I could heal in solitude. And besides, I wouldn't let this go anywhere. I'd take a walk, have a good, interesting conversation, and nip whatever might happen in the bug. Innocent enough of a plan …

As we walked, we acquired more drinks to replace those we'd consumed. And after the second glass, I felt myself becoming more comfortable, opening up more to the polite questions and the easy, affable camaraderie my new friend offered. His full name was Helix Sinclair, and he worked as a director of the "Acquisitions" department for the Company. I didn't care to question him on the true nature of his job. He was entertaining, his humor infectious enough that after only an hour in his company, I'd been reduced to laughter great enough to create tears. We walked aimlessly, following whatever route whimsy dictated, and I realized in a vague sort of manner that I'd drunk far too much in a very short time, but for some reason didn't care. I could see the gleam in Helix's eyes as well, the one that told of the effect of the alcohol, as he led me from the first deck into the lower hold. We stood on a catwalk above the large pens that held the malapedes and gazed down upon them; having never seen them but hearing a lot about them, I was rather curious.

"We're taking them to Grissop 3," Helix told me. "It's a planet that seems exceptionally suited to their needs."

"They belong to the Company?" I asked, surprised. "I thought some rich rancher owned them."

"That's what we want people to think. This is a bit of an experiment—confidential, if you will. These animals carry something that set them apart from the rest of the breed." He stared down at them and the expression that crossed his face was strangely eager, almost anticipatory. It was gone before I could be certain I'd seen it. He turned to me with a smile and fluttered one hand in the air. "But you're not interested in all that."

"I am," I said, trying to adopt an expression that would substantiate my lie, but he shook his head. I glanced down at the malapedes and suddenly felt the room tilt; I lifted my eyes and came to the delayed, sluggish conclusion that I was drunk. Helix stepped closer to me and put one hand on my shoulder, and I looked at him in confusion.

"What else interests you, Sheyn Harris?" He asked; he was close enough now that I could feel his breath, redolent with alcohol, brush my cheek. I couldn't think of a coherent answer, because my attention was caught and held by his eyes, by the feel of his hand on me, by the fact that I'd been terribly lonely for so long and that right now, I didn't feel alone.

Helix filled the silence for me. "I'd like to kiss you." He said.

And like a fool, I let him.

I'm not proud of what followed. With the false sense of security and deceiving bravado instilled by the alcohol, I let myself succumb to sensation and a yearning I hadn't even known I had. The trip back to my bunk—it was the closest—was a swift journey with frequent pauses during which we touched each other, kissed each other, held each other. I remember feeling a giddiness at the fact that I was letting myself do this; I am not, as a rule, spontaneous. Guilt flitted around the edge of my consciousness, but I locked it away and instead concentrated on the here and now. But the demons were reluctant to let me have my moment, for later, within the confines of the small but opulent room that was my home for the duration of my voyage, it wasn't Helix's face I saw above me, shining with sweat and drawn into lines of intense pleasure. It wasn't Helix's hands that roamed over me, explored me, made me catch my breath in raw ecstasy. I saw what I wanted to see—a dead man, the man I'd loved, teasing and tormenting my body until it all came to a shuddering, screaming end. And afterwards, as I lay on my side and felt the warmth of another body at my back, it was easier to pretend that I knew whose flesh was pressed so tightly against my own. Exhausted, desires I hadn't even known I'd harbored sated, I slid into a dark and unbroken slumber with a stranger's arm around my waist.

Morning wasn't kind.

I awoke when he did, and in that instant it took me to remember everything I was flooded with a mixture of guilt, shame and sorrow. And so I feigned sleep as I felt him stir beside me, as he brushed an errant lock of hair away from my brow and laid a soft kiss there. He rose then, and with my eyes tightly closed I listened to him move quietly around, gathering his clothes and donning them. It was only when I heard the soft hiss of my cabin door sliding shut behind him that I shifted into a sitting position, wincing as muscles abused from the activities of the night before protested the movement. I remained motionless for a long time, trying to assign reason and logic to what I'd done.

A part of me was preening at the fact that someone had obviously found me attractive; I am not by popular standards what you would call beautiful. I'm taller than most women with a sturdy, solid frame—no willowy, whip-thin vixen am I. My hair is dark brown and refuses to be simply straight, curly or wavy and instead mulishly insists on being a mixture of all three. Because of that, I tend to wear the length of it—which falls to about the middle of my back—in a braid. My face is oval, with a strong definition in the lines of my jaw and cheeks that keeps me from being delicately pretty. My eyes are hazel, either green or brown depending on the light, and I find them too large. My late lover said they were the most expressive eyes he'd ever seen. I know I'm not what you'd call a stunning beauty—I'm too plain for that. But I know I have my own brand of comeliness, should people take the time to search for it, and that was enough for me.

Was that what Helix had seen, or had it been the alcohol that had ultimately brought him into bed with me? It was a question I didn't really feel like debating, as I already felt bad enough. Sometime during my deliberations a steady, percussive throbbing had begun in my temples and had blossomed quickly into what I recognized as a hangover headache. Feeling utterly miserable at the fact that I'd betrayed the memory of the one I'd lost, I curled in on myself and lay down again, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. The tears came soon after, and when I'd worn myself out through crying, I fell asleep once more.

**.o.**

It was while I slumbered that the chaos first started, I learned later. It had begun with two crew members failing to report for shift change; they had been in charge of monitoring malapede herd in the lower hold overnight. An exploration into their whereabouts by other members of the crew revealed their bodies lying contorted on the catwalks above the hold—the very catwalk Helix and I had stood upon mere hours before. The manner of death had baffled the _Monolith_'s resident doctors, for it seemed as though something had erupted with great force from _within_ the two men, breaking out of the cage of flesh and bone. The two men weren't the only causalities, however—the entire malapede herd, all 100 head, had died in a similar matter.

The question of whether or not something infectious had been brought aboard by the livestock arose, and so it was that that the lower hold and first two floors were immediately put under quarantine. All passengers on those floors were told that there was an issue with the air quality above-deck and that the problem was being addressed with prompt and due diligence. For those of us that actually were above deck, we were informed that the there was an issue with the air quality below us. It was handled like this in order not to create a panic—this was the _Monolith_'s maiden voyage, after all, and bad publicity had to be avoided at all costs. It was known by the ship's command that the Company were in fact the owners of the malapede herd, and so it was that Helix and the seven other members of his department were sought out to be questioned about the possibility that the livestock had carried something incredibly virulent and deadly. Helix and associates, however, were nowhere to be found.

Only four hours after the discovery of the crewmen's bodies the first of the creatures were sighted in the lower hold. It was shot and killed—with noticeable difficulty—and as three men attempted to retrieve its corpse several more of the creatures appeared. The three men fell, and an attempt to rescue them resulted in the swift and gruesome deaths of five more men. By the time it had been pieced together that these creatures were in fact the very things that had burst from the bodies of the first two dead men and the livestock, it was too late—the creatures, the aliens, had swarmed out of the lower hold en masse. Those residing in their cabins on the first deck had no idea what was coming for them.

I was awoken by the emergency claxons—their harsh blare was enough to make me leap from bed in a state of utter confusion. The red light signifying I was too head to the rendezvous point on the uppermost deck was swirling madly, bathing my darkened room in spasmodic, bloody flashes. Dazed, still feeling weak from the effects of the previous night's binge, I set about clothing myself before stumbling out the door. I wasn't the only one confused—the hall was filled with passengers headed for the gather point, all of them wearing expressions that ranged from bafflement to fear. I fell in with them and we moved as one for the elevators and the stairs, a mass of living, breathing bodies acting like a herd of animals rather than rational beings. It seemed to take forever to reach the elevators, and when we did we filled them to maximum capacity. I was becoming more alert, the fear and worry of the others around me serving almost as a refresher. I was as agitated as the rest of them and began to wonder as they did—would we have to abandon ship? If so, were there enough escape shuttles? Was this just a drill?

When the entirety of the _Monolith_ suddenly juddered as though struck by something, throwing us hard against each other, we realized as one that it wasn't a drill. A different siren began to sound, this one with a continous high-low wailing that started my heart racing and my breathing to quicken in its pace. We all knew it for what it was—it was the alarm that signified we were under attack. The elevator lurched downwards alarmingly but then began to rise again, and there was no longer a tense silence in the elevator. One woman was weeping loudly, hysterically; another was crying large silent tears. The man next to me was whispering a rapid-fire prayer over and over again, and I stood ramrod straight in the back, staring at the doors and willing them to open. When they did it was a race to get out first; I almost fell from an errant shove. Righting myself, I stood still and let the others pour around me, refusing to panic because I knew panic in a situation like this could be deadly. There was a row of elevators, eight of them, and from each spewed forth passengers that were terrified, worried, confused. We were on the uppermost deck now; I could see the lights of the command deck not far above, could see the commotion of the people within. And then my eyes were drawn to men in uniform that stood in an organized group not far from the elevators, each of them cradling black rifles in their arms; standing motionless as they were, they contrasted sharply with the wheeling, surging crowd of passengers. I took a few steps closer and abruptly stopped, for standing at the vanguard, a similar rifle hanging across his back as he addressed the other men with agitated hand gestures, was Helix.

For a moment I contemplated approaching and asking him for all he knew, but then I remembered things from the night before—absurd things to recall at a time like this—and turned away, following the general direction of the passengers as they headed for the gather-point, which was in fact the observation deck. It was Helix's voice saying my name that jerked me back around, and I turned to watch him jog over to me.

"Not that way," he said.

"It's the gather-point." I said dumbly; everything was beginning to seem slightly surreal.

"Trust me, Sheyn," he said, and leaning in close he planted a quick kiss on my cheek. He drew back, and I noticed in a detached way that his eyes were sparkling with something akin to anticipation. He seemed excited, but when he caught hold of my wrist I resisted.

"What about them?" I asked, waving a hand at the others all around me.

He shook his head. "They'll be fine, but I want to be sure that you'll be okay." When I still didn't move, he leaned in again to say softly and urgently in my ear, "Last night was a beginning."

My heart skittered at this; how stupid it was to be affected by a man when by all rights I should have been fearing for my life. But his words had the affect he wanted them to, and when he began to move again I followed him, led by his hand on my wrist. The armed men he had been speaking to had broken into three groups, ranks of five in each. Two had begun to leave, moving with the swift, quick precision of men trained in combat. The last group remained standing where they were, and they watched Helix expectantly as he approached with me in tow.

"Let's move," Helix said. The men formed an arrowhead and began to march quickly; Helix and I trailed behind. There was a tension about these men that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. Helix glanced down at me and flashed a smile meant to be reassuring.

"Why the weapons?" I suddenly remembered to ask.

"For protection."

"Against?" We reached a corner, and Helix pulled me to a stop. The five before us crouched low to the ground and eased around the corner, each covering the other, until the last waved for Helix and I to approach. Annoyed and a little alarmed that he hadn't answered my question, I demanded, "What the hell is going on?"

"You'll see soon," he told me, fingers tightening on my wrist. I opened my mouth to ask for a better explanation when the ship shuddered again, sending Helix reeling into the wall and throwing me to the floor. I lay there stunned, the hall around me dark but for the wild, crimson flashing of the emergency light; when the world reoriented itself Helix appeared above me, holding out one hand with an expression of triumph on his face.

"What's going on?" I asked again, fear making my voice strained.

Helix had been staring down the hall. He looked back at me, and a small, jubilant smile flickered across his lips.

"They're here." He said.

**.o.**


	2. 002

**.2.**

"Who—?" I began to ask, but Helix abruptly hauled me upright. He kept hold of my wrist even after I was standing again, but his grip had tightened to the point of being uncomfortable. One glance at his face and it was apparent he was oblivious to my discomfort; whatever had arrived on the _Monolith_, whatever it was he had spoken of—that was all that was on his mind. Around us the armed men came to their feet or pushed away from the walls they had stumbled into when the trembling had gripped the ship, swiftly and silently reforming their ranks. The man who took the vanguard point of the arrowhead formation—the commander of the bunch, apparently—regarded me steadily for a moment, an expression of distaste passing quickly over his face, as though he were examining me for certain attributes and had found me lacking. Confused as to why such a thing would matter, I scowled and opened my mouth to ask what exactly was wrong. The commander's eyes, however, flicked to Helix, and he said in a rough voice that carried a rasp that was almost painful to listen to, "Sir?"

"They'll break into groups," Helix said. He still hadn't released my wrist, and he was still staring with eyes unfocused down the corridor. "One to head for the nest. One to clean up the xenomorphs roaming above-deck. One to take care of us."

I really wasn't liking the sound of this; I pulled away suddenly, wrenching my arm free. Helix blinked and looked my way almost as though he were surprised to see me still there. He continued speaking after a moment, his words directed to the commander. "Have Units 1 through 4 take up point position near the nest, but tell them to keep the section barriers up until absolutely necessary. Units 5 through 8 will form double-back patrols on the first, second and third decks—the same thing about the barriers applies to them as well."

The commander nodded. "And us …?"

Helix smiled, a curving of the lips that was at once both mirthless and edged, and I realized then with an unpleasant jolt that perhaps the man I'd slept with the night before had been the product of a fake persona. "We head for Epsilon Rho. From there we'll monitor the progress. You and yours are to be used only as reserve."

I saw a flicker of something in the commander's eyes at this—ire or perhaps impatience? His eyes moved to me again for only an instant before his expression became shuttered and implacable, and he nodded once in acceptance of Helix's commands. Lifting a small radio clipped to his belt, he spoke tersely into it before returning it to where it rode and then turning quickly to face the rest of his team, snapping, "Double-time."

"Come on," Helix said to me, reaching for my arm again as our escort began to quickly move out. I evaded his grasp and shook my head; he considered me only for a moment before instead beckoning me to follow him. For a moment I debated refusing—his attitude, so unlike that of the man I'd met the night before—had thrown me off base, and I couldn't help the wild suspicion and distrust I now felt. This was no carefree, easy-going man looking for a good time and a quick laugh—or maybe it was, but now there was something fierce about him, indomitable, something that spoke of great ambition and authority. And I wondered in that moment why and how I'd been so blind to such a thing ...

"Sheyn." He said, and I snapped out of my poorly-timed reverie. Already Helix stood some several feet before me, hand outstretched. I made my decision and broke into a run, catching up to him and then following as he in turn followed the armed men. My eyes centered on the black rifle slung across his back and I wondered exactly what kind of man the real Helix Sinclair would be revealed to be. We swept as a singular unit down the corridor to a four-way merge; seamlessly we shifted into the hall on our right and continued on. As we ran, I noted that the rifles were now being held in firing positions, and the sense of dread that had come upon me only a short time ago intensified greatly. It remained unspoken, but obviously whomever or whatever it was Helix had spoken of was considered highly dangerous. The mystery surrounding our current situation—whatever this situation actually was—did nothing to assuage my worry, and I wanted nothing more than to pull Helix to a stop and demand answers.

Our flight came to a halt when we reached a flight of stairs descending down. We paused as a whole, and I watched with alarm as the unit set about checking their weapons for rounds, reloading them, and switching the safeties off. I observed as three of the unit members fastened what appeared to see infrared goggles over their eyes, but my attention was drawn away when Helix held out a handgun to me. I looked at him, looked at it, and resolutely shook my head.

"Sheyn—"

"No."

"Take it."

"No."

"Sheyn." He said, stepping close and bowing his head so that I could—just barely—here the urgency in his soft words. "You have no idea what we may run into. I'll do my best, and my men will do their best, to make sure we don't get into trouble. But I can't promise that this will go smoothly, so please take it. I'll show you how to use it; it's a simple concept."

"I already know how," I told him. He stepped back and regarded my intently for a long moment before holding out the gun to me again. I was aware of the rest of the unit watching our exchange in silence, and I awkwardly reached out and took the weapon. They observed as I ejected the cartridge and counted the rounds before sliding it home, switching the safety, and racking the slide. When I looked up again the unit had begun to move, and as Helix and I followed after I could feel the question in his gaze.

"Hobby." I told him shortly, feeling unaccountably irritable at the fact that I'd taken the weapon even though I hadn't wanted to. I'd used similar weapons before—mostly semiautomatic 9mm handguns like this one—at shooting ranges and the occasional tournament when first I'd moved to Derrica 12. Wielding a firearm in practice or competition was nothing like wielding it in self-defense, of this I was almost positive, and a hard, tight knot of apprehension settled in my gut as I fingered the cold, grooved grip of the weapon in my hand. If it all came down to it, would I actually be able to shoot someone or something to protect myself? Would I be able to kill?

I mulled this over as we descended the stairs—the fact that we were going down really didn't bode well, or so I thought. The deck below was dark just as the one we'd left behind had been, the dimness broken only by the wild red flashing of the emergency lights decorating walls. We adopted a slower pace, with the men at the front of the formation moving low to the ground, weapons at the ready, while those behind them stood prepared to offer cover fire should it be needed. The sense of surrealism I'd felt earlier, along with the grogginess made inherent by my alcohol binge, had dissipated quickly and now I was filled with an icy awareness that had me breathing quickly, had my eyes darting from side to side in a perusal of my surroundings that was almost panicked. When the men at the point held up their hands in a sudden signal for us to be still, I came to a halt along with the others and swallowed thickly. We stood thus for long moments; I strained to hear something, _anything_, over the undulating wail of the alarm.

The two men simultaneously lowered their hands, and we began to move again. The tension that flowed over us all now was practically tangible, and driven by some instinct I hadn't even known I'd had I began to move in slow, cautious steps, bending slightly at the waist in preparation to bolt should the need arise. The semiautomatic I held was in fact a Browning Hi-Power, a make I'd never used before but was, I felt certain, identical to the other 9mm's in my collection. I cradled the gun in the two-handed Standard hold, one hand wrapped around the grip, the other cupping the bottom for stability and support. Should something happen, I could easily slide into the Weaver stance, which was the one I used most often when shooting during practice. Would my years of gun collecting and range shooting aid me should the unnamed, unseen beasties leap out at us?

Somehow, I really didn't think so.

I shook my head and tried to force myself to think happy thoughts. It didn't work. At my side Helix moved with stealth and purpose, reminding me more of some kind of hunting animal rather than the affable, almost goofy man I'd met the night before. His attention, like that of his men, was focused on the area around us, eyes constantly scouting the shadows and corners for the unknown. I opted to follow suit, deciding with morbid and inane humor that I'd rather see what was coming to get me rather than be surprised.

Turns out, I was surprised anyways.

It was the commander that barked the warning; I'd barely even begun to turn my head to see what the issue was when the gunfire began. The assault came head-on, our assailant rushing in from the darkness directly ahead of us. Except I couldn't see anything other than the rapid flashes erupting from the automatic rifles, nor could I hear anything other than the roar of the shots. Bewildered, scared, I swiveled around to ask Helix what the hell was going on. The expression on his face as he carefully lifted his own rifle—not firing it, but preparing to do so—whipped me back around to again stare at the empty expanse of the corridor before us all.

A spray of bullets ripped through seemingly empty air, and I watched incredulously as that air rippled and wavered, as something began to take form, shaping itself out of nothing. And in the span between one breath and the next I saw it in its entirety, a massive humanoid creature that towered over us all with a face made of metal and dark, visor-like eyes. It came rushing towards us with swiftness that belied its size; I watched as the gunfire from the armed men punched holes in its body, and I watched as it continued onwards, barely faltering. Helix began to shout as it neared the vanguard of our formation, his words garbled and distorted by the chaos all around us. The creature reached the closest of the two men and reared back; in a blurred rush of movement it hoisted the man in the air, and I realized in horror that the man had been completely impaled upon two wickedly curved, slender blades. The rest of the unit had scattered in order to gain distance from our adversary; Helix shoved me hard behind him, and unable to regain my balance I stumbled and fell.

I rolled frantically to my hands and knees and then into a crouch, and watched as the body of the dead man flew in an arc over my head, discarded by the creature. Blood splattered my face and my clothes; a scream crawled its way up my throat as I heard the body land somewhere behind me with a sickening, wet thud. The creature was lunging forwards, towards Helix and I—

A deep, hollow noise suddenly exploded, and in the somewhat narrow confines of the corridor it was almost deafening. The creature staggered, tottered, and then fell, and I felt its impact shudder the floor beneath me. For a long moment, nobody moved, and the abrupt silence was almost painful. Finally Helix said quietly, "Thank you, Avis."

The commander, standing a few feet to our right, nodded wordlessly and lowered the sleek black tactical shotgun he carried. I got to my feet slowly, and like everyone else around me made my way over to the corpse of the creature lying crumpled in a steadily widening pool of a green liquid so bright that it seemed almost to glow.

It took me two tries to get the words past the knot in my throat, "What the hell …?"

Helix crouching before the body, reaching out and nudging it with the barrel of his rifle. "This is what I was talking about," he said. I'd already gathered that much, but remained silent as he dipped a gloved finger into the pool of neon fluid. "This is what it bleeds. These things can take massive amounts of damage before succumbing to their wounds. They're incredibly powerful, but they're very agile as well, able to move with great speed despite their bulk. Perfect predators," he said, rocking back on his heels. I stared hard at him, unable to believe that after what I'd just seen he could sound so very casual and contemplative.

"Sir." It was the commander—Avis—that spoke next. Still crouching, Helix slanted a glance at his second in command. Avis indicated the body of his dead soldier with a nod of his chin. "What about Koskins?"

Helix sighed and got to his feet and said without turning, "We leave him. It seems we've underestimated them; they breached the outer hull faster than expected. I'm sorry," he added, laying one hand on Avis' shoulder. Avis, face devoid of any and all expression, merely nodded once again.

My eyes had fastened themselves on the dead creature. This close I could see that had it been upright, it would have easily reached eight feet. It wore an odd mixture of armor and a bodysuit of thick, wire-like mesh. Facedown as it was, I couldn't see the mask it wore, but I did take note of the long black appendages that resembled hair fanning out from its skull. Each separate strand, if that's what they in fact were, was bound in several places with thick rings of metal. From a wound beneath those hair-like appendages seeped heavy amounts of its strange blood; Avis' shot, it seemed, had taken it directly through the head. Its skin appeared to have the mottled, pebbled texture like that of a lizard, but that was where the similarities ended. It was vaguely man-like, yes, but it was also undeniably and utterly alien. I rubbed then at the moisture I could feel on my face, and I shuddered as my fingers came away stained red with the blood of the dead man. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this creature, whatever it was, was also unquestionably deadly.

"Let's move," Avis said, and his rasp carried clearly even over the silence. One by one his remaining men fell into lines, again checking and preparing their weapons. I reached out and caught Helix's arm as he began to do the same.

"What are they? And why are they here?" I demanded. Despite myself, my voice wavered a little; I was left shaken in the wake of all I'd witnessed.

"Not now." He told me, and when I opened my mouth to press the issue he laid a finger against my lips. "Later, Sheyn. We need to get out of here, and we need to do it now."

"And if there are more of them? How will we know—" A sudden thought hit me. "How _did_ you know it was coming?"

"Technology." He told me, as if that would answer everything. I knew I'd get no more from him, and so I stepped back and waited in silence while the rest prepared themselves. After they'd finished Avis cast a glance over us all before pointing ahead with two fingers and breaking into a quick run. One after the other we followed suit, with me running second to last and Helix brining up the rear. I cast one last glance at the dead soldier and the body of that which had killed him before turning my attention forwards and concentrating resolutely on not being left behind.

**.o.**

We reached Epsilon Rho mere minutes later, sweeping down one corridor, turning into another, and then pounding up a short flight of stairs. Epsilon Rho was the command center, Helix breathlessly explained to me as we neared, a large room centered in the midst of passenger cabins. The doors were manned by four guards, all of them wearing the same strange goggles as the men in our unit. Was that, I wondered, how they'd known the creature was coming? I didn't get a chance to ask; Avis nodded at the guards and they nodded back, one of them speaking into a lapel radio. An instant later the double doors slid open and we quickly entered.

The doors hissed shut behind us, and I felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief at the fact that there was now a barrier, substantial and with sentries, between me and whatever lurked out there. Avis and Helix had moved immediately to a large console in the far right corner of the room where another uniformed man stood and were conversing in low and rapid tones. I took the opportunity to scope out the surroundings. It looked much like I'd expect a military command post to look—there were desks and consoles with a myriad of monitors cluttering almost every square inch of floor space. There were two doors in the back, one leading left and the other leading right; the left door had a large, observation like window situated in the wall next to it. There were also, I noted, two armed guards posted on either side of the left door.

The computer equipment in the room was of the likes I had never before seen; sophisticated and complex readouts showed on many monitors, and live video footage—which, I realized upon closer inspection, came from the many security cameras onboard the ship—showed on the others. Almost every station had someone to monitor it, and I realized with some surprise that those people manning them were not part of the military, but in fact wore uniforms emblazoned with the emblem of the Company.

My survey of Epsilon Rho was interrupted; Helix called my name from where he stood and beckoned me. As I neared I realized that what I'd mistaken for another military man was in fact a woman; she was tall and dressed in the same severe navy blue uniform as the others, with honey-blonde hair cropped short against her skull in standard military-style, hard blue eyes and thin lips. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Avis as I approached, and graced me with a flick of a glance that encompassed me from head to toe and left me feeling again as though I'd been found lacking in a certain department.

"Lieutenant Crona, this is Sheyn Harris," Helix said, fluttering one hand in my direction.

"A civilian." Lieutenant Crona said, and that one word held something that sounded an awful lot like contempt. I bristled and narrowed my eyes. Something told me that I wasn't going to like Lieutenant Crona very much.

"Yes," Helix said, and there was an underlying tone of exasperation in his own voice. "I brought her here. I'll be responsible."

"We've gathered the rest of the civilians in the southeastern hold. They are completely safe." Crona said without taking her eyes off me. "Perhaps she should be escorted there …?" As she trailed off, her gaze flicked to Avis standing motionless at her side, and I realized that he was in fact her commanding officer.

"She stays," Avis said after a moment; I'd seen Helix give him a negligible shake of his head. Avis didn't sound as though he wanted me to stay, but again I felt relieved. There was no goddamn way I was leaving this place, not without an entire army at my back. Crona glanced at the gun I carried and shrugged her shoulders, but I got the distinct feeling she wasn't happy either.

"Should she be armed?" She asked then.

"I'd prefer to keep it, thanks," I replied sharply. I hadn't wanted it to begin with, true, but now I did. I really did. And yes, that makes me a hypocrite.

"She knows how to use it," Helix said, and I felt a surge of gratitude towards him for defending me against people who obviously didn't think I belonged here. Truth be told,_ I_ didn't think I belonged here either, but hey—here was much, much better than being out there. He went on quickly, before anything else about me and my shortcomings could be said, "Has the recovery team returned?"

"Yes." Crona said, and suddenly she seemed eager, almost excited. "Not ten minutes ago."

"And?" Helix prompted; it seemed to me as if his whole body tightened in expectation.

"They got one. Come and look." Crona wheeled around and marched to the observation window I'd noticed before with Helix hot on her heels. Avis followed at a more leisurely pace, and I trailed behind. I had a funny feeling that I knew what was going to be beyond that window …

I was right.

Standing in a line, we looked down into what looked to be a modified medical lab. Like the control center, it contained state of the art equipment; monitors and electronic charts cluttered the walls, shelves and counters with a myriad of paraphernalia lined the walls. And as I'd expected, on an examination table that seemed larger than most, lay another of the creatures, held down by several bands of what looked to be thick, tempered steel. The monster was still alive; its massive chest rose and fell erratically, but my attention was diverted and immediately captured by the fact that it wore no mask.

"My God, it's ugly," Helix breathed, but there seemed to be no disgust in his tone, only a deep appreciation for the creature as a specimen.

I had to agree with him. As though it were able to hear us, the creature haltingly turned its head in our direction. Pretty it most definitely wasn't; from beneath thick, jutting brows gleamed two deep-set, oddly colored eyes. The lower half of its face consisted mostly of four mandibles framing a toothy maw; the mandibles moved independent of each other, twitching and moving in an almost prehensile manner. The skin of its face was similar in appearance to that of its body—pebbled, mottled green and dark yellow in color, with what seemed to be small growths of the thick, black hair like stuff growing along its brows. Longer strands fell from the back of its large head, mostly black in color with the occasional piece of white or grey.

Seeing us, the creature's eyes narrowed, and I shivered at the raw animosity I saw there. It's mandibles flared as though in preparation to roar or scream, but the sound became choked and mangled in its throat as its body tensed suddenly, arching against the metal constraints.

"What's happening to it?" I asked as its body fell limp again, as those eyes centered on us where we stood and radiated nothing but pure rage.

"Do you see those metal nodules attached to its body?" Helix asked me. I took a moment to locate them—small, arrow shaped metal fixtures attached to wires that looped over its body almost like a net—before I nodded. Helix continued, "Those are what are keeping it down. They work on the same concept as a M-18 taser, except they deliver a much more powerful and debilitating punch. Considerable amounts of electricity are being systematically and continuously administered throughout its body, numbing its muscles and paralyzing it."

"It's actually a net," Crona said without removing her eyes from the creature. "We devised its creation from studying a net-like weapon of their own. Because they can literally take a ton of abuse, the easiest way to subdue them—that is, to take one alive—is to render it immobile. "

It was a moment before her words registered. "Wait a minute—you knew about these things?" Even as I asked the question, everything fell into place: Helix's enigmatic words, the military presence onboard the ship. "Jesus Christ," I whispered, moving my wide eyes from Crona to Helix, "You _lured_ them here."

There was a silence before Crona snorted. "Very good. You do catch on quick."

I flushed angrily, but my eyes were on Helix; I was almost struck dumb by the implications of my realization. "Explain," I told him in a voice that sounded strangled to my ears.

Crona opened her mouth again, but Avis laid a warning hand on her shoulder and drew her away with him, leaving me alone with Helix. He regarded me mutely for long moments, and there was no sign of remorse, of regret, on his face. He looked completely calm, almost serene, in the face of the accusation I'd just leveled upon him.

"Alright," he said finally, glancing down at the restrained monster that had been allowed to live, to breathe, to hate. "I'll tell you everything I know."

**.o.**


End file.
